


Forget Today

by MarieQuiteContrarie (SeaStar1330)



Series: Fourteen Days [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Curse, Amnesia, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Golden Lace, Light Angst, Racy Lacey (Once Upon a Time), Storybrooke, Woobie Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:51:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9628757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaStar1330/pseuds/MarieQuiteContrarie
Summary: Following the accident with Gold's car, Lacey is recovering at his house when she develops a case of amnesia.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet is a vignette that takes place on Day 2 of Fourteen Days. You should read Fourteen Days through Day 1 in order for this to make sense.

_Day 2 – Sunday, mid-morning_

 

“Who are you?” Lacey lurches up in bed and scrambles to cover herself, drawing the sheets close around her neck. Her eyes are wide and suspicious, as though she doesn’t recognize her surroundings.

“What?” Confused, Gold stands in the open doorway of his finest guest room; Lacey’s room for the next two weeks. Not an hour ago he’d whisked away her empty bowl of oatmeal and barely sipped glass of orange juice with strict instructions to rest. Despite his attempts to be pleasant, the conversation had been clipped and pouty on her end, but she’d definitely known who he was.

“I’m”—her frightened gaze circles the room wildly—“what am I doing here?” She drags a pillow across her middle, using it as a shield.

Gold approaches the bed with slow, uncertain steps. The floor seems to shift beneath his feet and he leans heavily on his cane to mask his discomfort. “Lacey, it’s me. Gold. You had an accident and were in the hospital. You’re here at my house recovering.” He decides against bringing up their fourteen day community service deal or how she’d stolen his car the other night and smashed it into her apartment building.

“Gold…” She scrunches her pert little nose and eyes him as if trying to puzzle together who he is. The blanket and pillow slip down, revealing an expanse of buttery skin above a misbuttoned midnight blue shirt.

“Yes, Gold.” He clears his throat. “You’re, ah, wearing my shirt.”  

She was swimming in the thing, his tiny Lacey. If she were to stand up now, the garment would be hanging around her knees. A current of protectiveness surges through his limbs, making him dizzy.

“Oh, is this yours?” She fingers a sleeve between thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, it’s your house, so I guess it is.” Her expression is dubious, as though she hadn’t spent the past thirty-odd hours recuperating in this bed as he delivered trays of food and fresh reading material. Not that he minds—he loves taking care of his lass.

“Wait…you do look familiar.” She waves a triumphant finger toward him, her eyes flaring with recognition. “You’ve come into the nail salon where I work. You like pedicures.”

“That’s right.” Gold’s hands begin to ache and he looks down. His knuckles are white against the head of his cane, and he forces his muscles to relax. He’s read about short-term memory loss after accidents. It’s not terribly uncommon, especially among patients with head injuries. When she crashed, Lacey hit her head on the steering wheel on impact. At the discharge appointment, Whale mentioned that amnesia, while unlikely, was always a possibility. Gold frowns; he detests setbacks.

“Still doesn’t explain what I’m doing here at your house,” Lacey says. “So out with it.”

Gold lowers his head, wondering how to explain their complicated situation—friends with benefits turned one-sided love affair—but she mistakes his stalling for embarrassment.

“Oh…I see. We fucked last night, hmmm? How was it?” She stretches like a feline, pushing her breasts toward him and her plump lips curl upward in a seductive smile that has him plucking at his trousers. Her lusty smile melts into a frown. “Seriously. I can’t remember.”

“Ummmm?” Gold hears himself stammer and his cheeks are roasting with mortification. He’s foolishly insulted that she’s forgotten all the times they had made love. Nothing happened last night—at least not _that—_ and he swore he wouldn’t touch her during their fourteen day arrangement, but he’s a selfish bastard. He wants Lacey to burn and hunger for his touch, _to want his love_.

“I’ll thank you not to use that foul language again.” Gold shudders. She knows she hates that word. Except she doesn’t know, not at the moment, because she can’t remember who the hell he is. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. Why must everything be so bloody complicated?

“Sorry.” She sulks, her lips drawn down in an exaggerated moue, and crosses her arms over her chest.

Gold rotates his shoulders. Lacey pouting—now that is familiar territory. “Tell me about your last memory,” he says, clinging to the remnants of his patience.

“Mayor Mills and her sister came into the salon for gel manicures.” She pauses, drawing her finger along her full lower lip as she thinks. “It was a good day for tips so I went to the Rabbit Hole, played pool, had a few shots. Leroy and Nottingham got into a brawl and Al kicked them out.”

Relieved, he rushes to remind her, “Yes, that was two nights ago—the night of the accident. You beat Clark at pool, we ordered takeout chicken parmesan at the bar, and came back to my house.”

“I remember killing Clark at eight ball, but I don’t recall seeing you there. Don’t think I’d forget a silver fox like you.” She lays a hand on his thigh and squeezes, her throaty laugh shooting straight to his groin.

“Nothing wrong with your grip,” he says, removing her hand with a whimper.

 _Why does he have to be head-over-heels for this maddening woman?_ She’s so determined not to love him that she’s conveniently overlooked every intimate moment between them. _He’s no more to her than a salon patron. A big tip at the end of twelve-hour shift._ The thought makes him ache with sadness.

Frightened and at a loss, he clambers for the phone on the bedside table and dials the number for the hospital with shaking fingers. It takes eons to make the call and he wishes for his mobile, but it’s charging on his desk downstairs. _Stupid, old-fashioned rotary phone_. Gold curses under his breath.

* * *

As he dials, Lacey smiles innocently and flutters her lashes, delighting in Gold’s unease. A simple case of acute amnesia will teach him not to screw around with Lacey French.

Gold makes a mistake with the number and hits the little dial tone button, swearing before he starts again. She pushes her advantage a bit further, dropping her voice to a sultry whisper. “Why don’t you come to bed and show me what I’ve been missing?”

“Not now,” he says, his shoulders trembling. He shakes his head furiously and takes a step back. Away from her. “Are you sure?” Lacey pulls at the side of his suit jacket, a long, slow tug meant to disarm and arouse. He’s not going to best her at her own game.

Gold remains silent, his deep amber gaze fixed on her face.

“Who are you calling, anyway?” she asks, suddenly alarmed. “I’m not crazy.”

“I know that!” he snaps. “I still want Doctor Whale to come out and check on you. A house call is the least that quack can offer.”

“Is that the blond doctor with cool blue eyes?” she asks quietly.

“Yes. Why?” He pauses, the receiver cradled on his shoulder.

“I don’t like the way he looks at me.” Lacey shivers and wraps her arms around herself, fixing her attention on the rocking chair in the corner. It’s not an outright lie. Whale _has_ made a pass at her more than once.

Gold clenches his fist around the black receiver and slams the phone down. “I’ll find another doctor,” he says, raking his hand through his gray-streaked hair. He picks up the telephone for the third time.

“But I don’t need…” Lacey snaps her jaw shut; he’s already connected with his business manager.

“Dove!” Gold shouts. “Find me the best neurologist on the East Coast. Yes. I don’t care what it costs. Fly her in, dammit.”

As he barks orders into the phone, Lacey flinches at the puckered lines around his mouth and her heart gives a guilty flip _. So much for a harmless prank._ Yeah, she’d wanted to punish him for concocting this ludicrous scheme—two weeks to convince her they’re in love or some such bullshit—but she barely recognizes this jealous, protective, nervous wreck of a man.

Gold sinks to the bed in a hunched-over blob, and Lacey dips her head to peek at his expression. He’s not crying, thank God, but she has never seen his faced so pinched and worried. His breath is coming in short bursts and she’s definitely never watched him wipe his palms on one of his fancy-ass bespoke suits.

Then again, she’s never faked amnesia before, either.

It’s a day of many firsts.

When the call ends, he smooths clammy fingertips over her forehead, skating along her hairline and down to her temples. “Does it hurt when I do this, lass?”

Allowing her eyes to drift closed, she moans in pleasure, knowing that he’s watching every move. “No, it feels good.” She opens her eyes and licks her lips. “Wanna touch me some more?”

In a flash, Gold withdraws his hands and shoves them into his pockets. “How about some Jell-O instead?”

She covers a smile, then widens her eyes and chews her lower lip as if contemplating. “Do I like Jell-O?”

“Everyone likes Jell-O,” he says, his voice tight as he rises from the bed. “Come on.”

He allows her downstairs for the first time since her arrival here yesterday, settling her on the couch to watch television. Quickly, he builds a fire to chase away the chill in the den. “This is your favorite,” he coaxes, flipping on Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Lacey burrows into the corner of the couch and wraps a blanket around her legs. During the commercial break, Gold brings her a large bowl of raspberry gelatin topped with whipped cream.

The treat is cool and sweet and slides down her throat. Gold is rushing around like her personal servant, but she hardens her stubborn heart: this dumb arrangement was his idea. She gives the spoon a thoughtful lick. At this rate, maybe she can get out of working in the pawnshop with him tomorrow. Free labor isn’t her style and another day of lounging around his mansion in his dress shirts is a luxury she wouldn’t mind getting used to.

Wearing an uneasy smile, Gold brushes a few strands of hair off her forehead and settles into the armchair opposite the sofa to watch over her.

She both loathes and loves his strange behavior, longing to yank him close and push him away all at the same time. His face is open and trusting, like a little boy, eager to please and anxious to see to her every comfort. Every so often he asks her a few simple questions—her middle name, 2+2, her birthday—and beams in approval with each correct answer.

“The doctor should be here by tomorrow,” he says, crossing the room to kneel before her and cradle her hand between his large, warm palms. “Don’t worry about anything. Your memories will return soon.”

Lacey groans inwardly when he turns around to shuffle back to his chair. She’s being a horrid, hateful bitch, but she can’t bring herself to give up the game just yet.

She returns her attention to the television where the Kardashians have been preempted by the emergency news report of a twenty-car pileup on the interstate. A black Cadillac flashes across the screen, three-and-a-half thousand pounds of steel crumpled like an accordion. Through lowered lashes she peers at Gold, watching him react to each gruesome image in horrified disbelief.

His stricken expression tells her all she needs to know—he’s thinking of her accident, and she’s overwhelmed with the urge to rush to his side and card her fingers through his silky hair while she whispers assurances into his ear.

Surely the blow to her head is to blame for turning her into a sap, not this impossible, adorable man who is shrewd businessman, worried lover, and hopeful puppy all buttoned into a pristine three-piece suit.

“Lace?” his voice his low, and he remains mesmerized by the television screen.

“Yeah?”

He looks at her then, his eyes haunted. “When you crashed, were you frightened?”

“No.” She shakes her head hard, wanting to sooth him. “It happened so fast, Gold. I was lucky.”

Their gazes collide as they both realize what she has revealed.

“Indeed.” Gold’s eyes harden into twin coals, dark and angry.

She gulps and offers a sheepish smile. “I guess my memory’s back.”

* * *

Outraged, Gold shoots to his feet. “Do you want to forget this whole thing?” he demands, then reddens at the poor choice of words. He hadn’t asked about the accident to trick her into confessing, damn it, he’d been terrified. Even worse, he’d believed her lies.

“It was a joke, all right?” she says defensively. “I was pissed off about your stupid deal…I thought it would be fun to fake you out.”

“Fun? Fun. Fun to drive me insane with worry?” He gestures at her with his cane. “You’ve a strange sense of humor.”

“I guess.” She studies her fingernails.

“Listen, Lacey, I care for you. I’ve made no secret of that. Maybe you don’t feel the same, but that doesn’t mean you can use my love for you against me.” He shivers, feeling stupid and exposed. Nothing scares him more than being irrelevant, forgotten. The woman he loves had pretended not to know him and it hurts more than he thought possible. The past two hours had been among the worst of his entire life.

Miserably she whispers, “I’m sorry. It was a lousy excuse for a laugh. I went too far.”

There’s agony in the fragile lines around her mouth and eyes. He sighs, not feeling particularly forgiving. But he's promised himself he will be patient with Lacey and earn her trust moment by moment. Hell, their future is riding on this deal, and he doesn’t want to give up without a fight.

_Does she?_

Gold squints at his pocket watch. “No threats, lass: we have twelve-and-a-half days of community service before we reach the end of our arrangement. If you want to leave now, I won’t stop you. You can find your own way and a place to stay. Now, do you want to break our deal?”

Sucking in a breath, he hears only the sound of his own heartbeat as he awaits an answer.

“No,” she says at last. “I don’t.” She steps closer and flings her arms around his neck, the surprise impact of her ferocious hug making him stagger. Regaining his balance, he squeezes her waist and she lays her head against his chest with a soft sigh. “I’m sorry,” she repeats.

Gold slams his eyes shut and basks in her closeness, her warm, spicy scent enveloping him. It's a mess, this thing they have between them, but it's more real and honest and loving than anything he's had in his whole life. “It’s ok,” he says, and he means it. When it comes to Lacey, there’s nothing he won’t forgive.

She pulls back and pokes him in the chest. “Don’t expect me to make the rest of this sentence easy on you, though.”

He wheezes a laugh. “Naturally not.”

It’s not even lunchtime, and he’s already exhausted. God only knows what the rest of the day will bring, not to mention the next several. One thing is certain, however—the time he spends with Lacey will be anything but boring.

###

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Comments? I was aching for Gold but Lacey is so self-destructive and she can't seem to help it at this point so I hurt for her, too.


End file.
